


All of Our Hope

by vibranium



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Baby!Fic, F/M, M/M, Pregnancy, feel free, if you wanna say it's an au, pls don't bitch at me for making this a baby!fic, this is a baby!fic, which it is, you've been warned from here on out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibranium/pseuds/vibranium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On more than one occasion, Clint Barton found himself catering to every little need of Natasha Romanoff’s, as if he didn’t anyway, because when you’ve known someone for so long and they give you a certain look, you’re kind of already up on your feet and heading out to get them whatever it is they’re silently telling you that they need. Even if you’re exhausted. Or wounded. Or in the hospital after a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Caveat lector: Seriously, this is a baby!fic. Natasha is pregnant for most of it. This /is/ an AU, because I know Natasha is canonically infertile and unable to have children. Read at your own risk. If you don't like baby!fics, don't read this.  
> This is also based off of a roleplay I had going for around a year that was cut short for personal reasons on one side of the roleplay. I do hope that I paid proper homage to it, and to the wonderful roleplaying partner. I hope you all enjoy this :)

On more than one occasion, Clint Barton found himself catering to every little need of Natasha Romanoff’s, as if he didn’t anyway, because when you’ve known someone for so long and they give you a certain look, you’re kind of already up on your feet and heading out to get them whatever it is they’re silently telling you that they need. Even if you’re exhausted. Or wounded. Or in the hospital after a mission.

 

Now, it wasn’t that he minded, because he didn’t, not at all; sometimes Natasha was just giving him those looks for things that were over an hour away from the tower, and while he didn’t care for the drive out there, he did care for the calls he’d be getting about fifteen minutes after he’d left, whining for him and for what he’d left the tower to get for her.

 

That wasn’t what bothered him though. It never was. What _did_ bother him was that she’d get so emotional and start crying for him, blubbering into the phone and begging for him to get back home already. She’d ask, “Clint, you aren’t leaving me, right? Like, not for good? You’re only going to get me those… those brownies from downtown, right?”

 

And then she’d sniffle and start to cry again and he’d have to tell her, “Of course I’m not leaving you, baby, but I’m gonna eat all the brownies before I get home, I think,” to see if he could get her to laugh.

 

Usually it just made her cry more.

 

He didn’t hate it – it was actually really cute – but it tore him up to hear her crying so much because he’d left her for a bit to get something that she wanted. But thanks to the Bluetooth in the car, he kept himself on the phone with her until he was wherever he needed to be, telling her as their parting words that she could call again if she needed something else, which had her calling just about five minutes after he’d returned to the car and taken off back home, crying about how much she missed him.

 

“Where are you?” asked the woman who claimed that she never, ever cried. Not over anything. “I miss you. Why aren’t you back yet? Please tell me you didn’t eat all of the brownies without me. Clint, please. Where _are_ you? I miss you. Baby misses you too.”

 

He would’ve never expected her to be so cute and blubbery and clingy while she was pregnant, but he loved it. Even when she woke him up two hours before sunrise and asked him to go downtown for pelmeni and cinnamon rolls, mumbling drowsily in his ear, “So you know those things I made you try in Russia? I really want them. Like, now. Ooh, and cinnamon rolls. Yeah.”

 

All of this for a child she didn’t know she’d wanted so badly until she got into a relationship with Clint.

 

◦◦◦◦◦

 

They were told that the chances of their child’s survival were slim but not the slimmest – somewhere between twenty and thirty percent. But before that? Well, they’d both thought it was impossible.

 

So they spoke about it. They had to decide between chancing it, becoming attached before the baby was born, and even _if_ the baby was born, there was a chance of him or her being stillborn, or having diseases that threatened their life; or Natasha having a safe abortion and letting go (as much as she could) of her wishes to have a child at all (which Clint would have to do too. He’d always wanted a child of his own).

 

It was a difficult decision, but they made it, and now Natasha was seven months pregnant and weepy as ever. She hated it, though, whenever Clint called her cute for crying over almost everything and often pulled at his earlobe sharply to give back for the remark. But then she’d be apologizing and tearing up and leaning over to kiss at his face, which was probably the best part of the whole exchange. Tied with the pout she’d send his way whenever he called her anything close to cute.

 

She was emotional in a different way on their way to one of their biweekly visits (as per Bruce’s suggestion – better safe than sorry) to S.H.I.E.L.D’s barely-known-in-the-workplace OB/GYN (Dr. Bryant came Dr. Banner-suggested, as she didn’t just work at the local base but in her own firm most of the time and was well-liked by all of her patients).

 

Natasha was rubbing at her bulging belly through her shirt and speaking to their child, the gender they refused to know until their baby’s birth. The redhead cooed in Russian, beaming when she got a small kick against her hand. And even though Clint was driving, she reached for her husband’s right back and pressed it against where he’d been rubbing, which had been found to be the baby’s favorite spot. She made him rub until he got a kick as well, though this time it was harder and made Natasha squeal. Clint, in turn, just laughed and when they stopped at a red light behind a handful of cars, he leaned over and kissed her cheek softly, rubbing at her belly and getting a few more kicks.

 

He regretfully pulled his hand back when the light turned green.

 

Upon their arrival and allowed entrance to the doctor’s empty, serene office, questions were asked about movement or pain or headaches or lightheadedness, because while it was a visit to a doctor that specialized in children and birth and pre-natal _everything_ , it was a checkup all the same. The doctors of S.H.I.E.L.D all worked together in a way to take care of the agents around them.

 

The partners waited impatiently as the sonogram was set up, along with the ultrasound, hands clutching at each other. And, yeah, Natasha was teary again, but Clint just kissed her forehead a few times and shushed her gently until she calmed down. Then, like every other time they’d gotten to see their child (from his or her waist up, of course, though they’d gotten chances to see the baby’s feet and those cute little chubby legs…), their eyes widened and Natasha gripped at Clint’s hand just that much tighter. The marksman’s chest got a bit tighter, which was a wonderful, anxious feeling.

 

Dr. Bryant didn’t so much as ask if they wanted a print-out of the sonogram after she’d checked to make sure everything was all right. She moved onto listening closely and that’s when Natasha really started to cry, like every other time, because that was their baby’s heartbeat she was listening to, and it was the best thing in the world for her, for someone who had been experimented on and was told she was ruined as a child, unable to do what a woman should chose to want or not want to do. She thought she hadn’t had the choice to have a child, but she did, and she was so glad that she’d decided (with Clint’s agreement) to go through with it despite the risk of losing the baby.

 

Once everything about the baby was deemed perfectly okay by the doctor and Natasha got cleaned up, the three were heading back to the office to speak again about the vitamins Natasha was taking and about the baby itself.

 

“Everything seems to be… way better than it was just a little while ago. From last month to now, the baby’s developed more than usual, which I have a theory about. But no testing unless you’re okay with it,” Dr. Bryant began, looking over the notes she’d scribbled as they walked back to her office. She looked up when she spoke again, a tiny smile on her lips. “My theory is that the serum you were given…” She paused to look through her other paper work as a reference. “Several times as a younger girl might be working in aid for the baby and making him or her develop much more quickly. I do want to look over and explain this all to some of my colleagues, including Dr. Banner, if you don’t mind?”

 

Natasha’s eyes had widened a little bit, her free hand resting over where he stomach stuck out the most, as Dr. Bryant spoke to them; she’d been worried that her experimentation would hurt the baby, not help it. She clung to Clint’s hand a bit more as she looked to him upon the delivery of the doctor’s question, and they both nodded at the same time. “As long as it’s kept quiet. We don’t need anyone we barely know to know about this,” Natasha answered, looking to the other woman who nodded understandingly, getting a response she fully expected from two assassins and spies.

 

“All is going better than expected and you might… actually be due a bit earlier than December,” said the doctor after a bit more conversation and a change in direction of said conversation. “I’m thinking late November, maybe, but I’ll talk to the other doctors and see what they think. That’s all I can think about. I’m just as excited as you two are, I think.” With those words came a laugh and a grin sent in the direction of the partners sitting on the other side of her desk. She was happy she got such wide grins in response.

 

◦◦◦◦◦

 

The rest of that time between the visit and whenever the baby was going to be born… was spent anticipating the baby’s birth. And Clint hiding fond snickers behind his hands at the way Natasha waddled around. Often, in return, he got, “Shut the fuck up, Barton, or I’ll fucking maim you,” from Natasha, but other times he got a really loud, whiny noise that made him wince. He just never apologized.

 

The baby’s movement became more often as the time neared, which had Natasha grunting and trying to rub at her belly in whatever spot she hoped would be best that day. “Baby’s finicky today,” Natasha would tell her husband, but his touch would calm the baby right down.

 

It went like that for a long while, until nothing calmed the child down. But, of course, that’s when the baby was a breath away from being born.

 

◦◦◦◦◦

 

Turned out that Dr. Bryant was right about the early delivery. The baby was completely developed much earlier than was expected, which meant more shopping than was expected. Natasha was simultaneously excited and worried, because she loved the little shoes she got to buy and the tiny outfits she felt herself falling into so much love with, but she also didn’t want her water to break while she was out.

 

It didn’t, though, which she was glad about, but then she was kind of shouting for Clint to get her to the damn hospital because she wanted to see her baby already and he or she was on their way out at that moment.

 

At least they were on their floor of the tower that night. Too bad for their couch, though.

 

The ride there was a lot of ‘just breathe and relax and Dr. Bryant will be there to help you, okay?’ and ‘You can crush my hand while you’re giving birth, just not yet, okay?’ and gritted-out responses from Natasha that often just dissolved into grunts of pain. Clint wasn’t surprised that she was holding out well, because he knew from the start that she’d do her best to contain the pain herself.

 

She did until she was settled carefully into a bed and set up to give birth, which was when she screamed at the nurses that tried to usher Clint out of the room. “I need something to break, and if it’s not my husband’s hand, it’s going to all of your heads,” she told them in a very strained voice, which made them let up immediately.

 

At least Natasha hasn’t changed, the archer thought to himself.

 

◦◦◦◦◦

 

It took hours and hours (somewhere around fourteen), but on the twenty-fifth of November, at 1:03 pm, Jace Phillip Barton-Romanoff (or Romanoff-Barton, as Natasha insisted, though it didn’t matter because as long as both of their surnames were on his birth certificate, everything was okay) was out and crying moments later. And even though Clint’s hand was broken in several different places, the way Natasha’s hand got tighter around it when she heard the baby crying made every bone that was only fractured break.

 

Well, at least he still had his other hand.


	2. Jace.

Dr. Bryant’s theory seems to carry over with everything that happens with Jace – for a three-month-old, he’s slightly larger, slightly more advanced, and way, way more smiley.

 

Clint and Natasha are coping with it (though it’s such a good thing; there should be no coping) and learning that two forty five in the morning seems to be Jace’s favorite time to wake up and want to eat then play until he’s back under. Which means both of them have to wake up, since they decided that Natasha would breast feed. And Jace, well, he’s a daddy’s boy, but mainly when he’s cranky and sleepy.

 

More than once, he wakes bleary and whining, which is no surprise to Natasha since ‘he takes after his father so much.’ So the two of them wake and go into his room to get him, but when Natasha reaches into the basinet, Jace just starts to cry. “Shh, baby boy, it’s okay,” Clint says every time he steps in, which starts that calming-down process, to pick the baby up. He’s just sniffling in moments, blinking up at his father, and he clings to one of the man’s fingers while he’s fed.

 

Other times, he’s really in between which parent he wants to be with, but as long as he has his stuffed puppy, he’s okay.

 

When he’s wide awake and playful (which is all the time unless he’s hungry or needs a diaper change), he’s often situated between his parents, chewing almost idly at the ear of his puppy, and his eyes dart between the two of his parents, squirming one way or another to go to one of them before becoming unable to decide. The whole thing is really adorable and he gets “Come here and let Mommy hold you,” from Natasha and “Mommy’s stinky, come over here by Daddy,” from Clint.

 

Jace dissolves into a fit of giggles and they really can’t get enough of him.

 

The partners find later that he keeps his curly blond hair that he was born with, though his eyes turn slightly darker from a mix of blue and green to just green, like Natasha’s.

 

When she thinks no one is listening, she often talks to Jace about how strange it is to see eyes so similar to her own staring right back up at her. Clint’s caught the scene more than a handful of times, but he keeps hush about it because it’s so cute to see her interact so quietly with their little boy.

 

The marksman also vowed in the beginning that they’d give Jace everything they possibly could that they didn’t have much of, which meant kissing him all the time and playing with him and taking pictures of, well, everything. (They keep disposable cameras in every room on their floor in the tower, and they never leave the house without one.) Natasha makes sure to keep Jace as happy as possible without spoiling him too much, though it seems impossible not to spoil such an adorable little baby, and sometimes when Clint isn’t around she lets him taste things like a dab of ice cream from the back of a spoon.

 

She did wait for Clint to be there when she gave the baby the tiniest amount of lemon, though, because she knew the face he’d make would be the best thing in the world and she needed to share something like that with her husband.

 

◦◦◦◦◦

 

While team time was something that happened usually every weekend, once a week, with the arrival of Jace, team time starts to be every few days, then every other day. Eventually, Clint and Natasha get calls from team members (even Tony, to their surprise) asking them to bring Jace down, to let them baby-sit because the partners didn’t ‘get enough time alone anymore.’

 

“Come on, I just wanna see his cuh- _ute_ little face again,” comes from Pepper, while Bruce brings up an excuse of checking on Jace. Steve gives, “I miss him and that smile of his,” then pauses before he adds, “and I think Tony is warming up to him even more.” Other times, the phone calls end up being a cooing superhero on one end and a cooing baby on the other.

 

Clint and Natasha aren’t going to stay away from Jace, though, because they aren’t comfortable with being apart from him. It’s too soon for them (and for him because he cried every time they weren’t in his sight). So babysitting becomes team time, too, except Jace is passed around and played with.

 

Not surprisingly, the only person that ever helps with diapers is Steve, because he likes the smiles and laughs that Jace lets show when he’s all dressed again.

 

And sometimes looks are given in the way of others (really, really hopeful looks), because a certain blond someone just so happens to enjoy babies so much that he wants one of his own. Of course, Steve, who happened to be that blond someone, had only really begun to like babies with Jace being around so much (he claims that babies would cry around him ‘back in the day’), and as much as it was hinted to, Tony was opposed to having a child of his own for his own personal reasons.

 

The genius softens up slowly, gradually, though, and does his own research on his own time, claiming he’s building things.

 

The only person to find out just what Tony is doing down in the lab is Clint when he’s taking Jace on a tour of the entire tower, letting him bat at things that are safe to touch.

 

“No, no, baby boy, you don’t get to hit that” is something that comes out of Clint’s mouth often as he moves up and down the tower with Jace in tow. He does, though, let him whack at the buttons in the elevator, which is how the end up in the lab in the first place.

 

While Tony admits them into the lab, he can’t exactly get JARVIS to exit out of the blown-up browsers as quickly as the doors open.

 

“Adoption agencies, huh?” Clint inquires of the other man, who looks both angry and sheepish at the same time, a strange combination that has Tony looking like a frustrated puppy. The marksman’s tone is teasing, though, and he lifts Jace up to be face-to-face with him, cooing, “Uncle Tony’s looking for babies? Are you gonna have a cousin soon?” Jace lets out screeching giggles and hits a bit at his father’s face, which makes the man grin and kiss at the tiny hands whacking at him.

 

With seeing that, Tony can’t exactly be mad anymore. Instead, he just admits to it and reaches out to ask for Jace.

 

Clint stays quiet to everyone about it but Natasha, because he knows his wife will keep quiet about something so important.

 

She’s even happy, though, because she knows how much Steve really wants a child, can see it in his eyes when the topic is brought up, even if that child can’t be of his own blood, or of Tony’s. Or even both of them. But that’s a whole other dilemma, and he’s spoken to Natasha and told her that he’d just love to have a child to call his own, no matter what.

 

Natasha thinks it has to be the cutest thought.

 

◦◦◦◦◦

 

While Stark and Rogers are in the process of deciding just where they want to adopt from a couple of months later (and while Tony is secretly hunting for an engagement ring), Jace is learning to crawl. And while it’s a scary thought, because that means watching him even more closely, it’s still amazing for Clint and Natasha to see their little boy moving around by himself at almost nine months old, dragging his stuffed puppy around with him once he’s stable enough.

 

The best thing for them is when he plops himself down at their feet when he’s moved just a little bit and gives them a huge grin, spotted with tiny white teeth, looking accomplished and proud of himself. So they grin back at him and one of them lifts him up so they can bombard him with kisses and hear those squealing giggles that they love to hear.

 

The spies don’t tell each other (or anyone) but a look between them says it: this was their best decision and any other life could never be this amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it :) Hope you all enjoy the story!  
> Disclaimer is, as usual, that I own none of the characters but Jace and Dr. Bryant, because I don't own Marvel or anything associated with it.

**Author's Note:**

> And, as always, the greatest thanks to Goose for betaing this because it was shitty before you told me what was wrong. Next chapter up soon :)


End file.
